I'm The Oldest Antique In Town
by Izzyv1o
Summary: Tony may own an original Rockwell or ten, but Steve actually met the guy, back Before. The only logical thing to do after this revelation is to take a trip to Stockbridge.


If you view this on AO3, there are embedded links to all the paintings mentioned and referenced. Links will also be on my profile, in order of appearance.

* * *

**"I'm the oldest antique in town." - Norman Rockwell**

* * *

Tony owns an original Rockwell.

Well.

Tony may own it, but Steve is pretty sure it's entirely Pepper's doing that it is hanging in the communal kitchen in the Avengers section of Stark Tower.

He tries his best not to stare too much - he's pretty sure he'll never get used to all the originals hanging on Tony's walls, but that doesn't mean he's going to gape like a fool every time he comes across one. Still, he'd always admired the covers Rockwell did for the Post, and some of the others actually left him at a loss for words, a sting of jealousy in his stomach for this man with the money for supplies, to spend all his time painting, for this man who was noticed.

It really shouldn't surprise him when Tony comes in to find him examining it over breakfast and declares, "Technically, we own the four Freedoms, too, but those've been on loan to the museum since it opened."

Steve starts at the words, despite hearing Tony come in, and drops all pretense of breakfast to examine the painting closer.

"I met him, you know. Back when I was on tour selling bonds." He has to pause to let the memories settle before he continues, and for once Tony lets him. "Before I started touring, his Freedoms were the most successful Bond drive in U.S. history. Said he wanted to meat the man who stole his crown."

They're quiet for a moment, and when Steve glances over at his companion he sees a familiar expression on Tony's face. It's the same look all the others get when he mentions Before - a little sad for him, a little cautious, like they think he'll break if he dwells too much on the past. It never fails to tick him off. He knows SHIELD had him on suicide watch for his first year Post-Ice, and after that he decided it would be less tiring to just ignore anything the agency was doing, as it more often than not leaves him with the beginnings of a migraine.

When Tony finally speaks, it's not nearly as abrasive as one would expect from The Tony Stark, but Steve is getting used to that. "I'd offer to get him out here, or to take you to Sturbridge - I'm pretty sure I own at least five places that way from my MIT days - but you missed each other by a few years."

As Steve starts his perfunctory, nearly habitual, "Thanks," Tony blurts out, "We could go to Sturbridge any way, I suppose. The museum's even moved his studio on site, open and everything in the summer."

When he registers what Steve said, he almost flinches, and the growing hint of a smile gets schooled away. Steve makes a note of it for later examination before he responds, eyes back on the painting, "I couldn't ask you to do that, Tony. You're already funding most of the Initiative, you're hosting us, and feeding us - and I don't know about demigods, but I do happen to know just how much Super Soldiers have to eat. I can't let you spend any more money on me."

Tony's laugh might have been offensive a year, or even a few months ago, but Steve is learning the nuances of them, can tell the difference between mocking, derisive, incredulous, and genuine. He's pretty sure this one is some mix of the last two. "Spend money? Rogers, don't be ridiculous. With the number of donations under the Stark name to that place over the years, I've got free passes for life, at least. And, really, what self-respecting establishment wouldn't want to be able to say Captain America visited?"

The smile on his face now is a little bit teasing, a little bit genuine, yet far too much the Tony Stark persona for Steve's taste. The truly genuine smiles come few and far between - they always manage to take Steve by surprise, and Tony usually looks like he's surprised himself with it, too. Steve considers giving in and agreeing, just for a shot at that smile, but this still feels too close to pity, to charity.

"The museum might be free, but what about -?"

"Cap, really," Tony cuts him off, the smile giving way to the determined expression that never leaves until he gets his way. "There's a house in the Berkshires from one of my winter breaks - I just had to try skiing on the Mt. Greylock - so I won't be paying for a hotel or anything, and if you're really that worried about gas prices, I can fly you in the suit."

The response comes in that tone. The tone that is almost artfully flippant, carefully crafted to give listeners the impression that this is really No Big Deal. Steve hasn't heard it this strong since he got the call from Tony suggesting that maybe, once he's done with his "cross-country motorcycle tour," he'd like to leave his ratty old apartment (In Brooklyn! Really? Brooklyn? In this day and age?) and move into the Tower. He'd actually made the mistake of taking that tone at face value that first time. It wasn't until after he'd moved in and started paying attention to Stark's many personas that he began to notice the fakes.

Still, Tony Stark using even a fraction of his intellect and magnetism is an enthralling sight. "And what if while we're gone-?"

"Do you know how fast the quinjet can get from New York to Western Massachusetts? Hell, do you know how fast my suit can do that trip? But if you're really worried about someone trying to take over the world while we're gone, we won't go today. We'll just wait until Thor comes back in a couple of weeks, so he can help hold off any big bads until we get back."

Before Steve has a chance to respond, JARVIS speaks up, and damned if that doesn't still throw him off every time, "Sir. The diagnostics you requested are complete, and waiting in the lab for your review."

Tossing out, "Thanks, Jarv. Catch you later, Capsicle!" Tony leaves the room, coffee mug in hand, with Steve still staring at the painting.

The next day, Steve finds himself considering the painting over his pancakes yet again.

It was definitely Pepper's doing, he decides. The expression the woman in the back is wearing is quite familiar to those who have borne witness to Tony explaining most of his projects, and to anyone who has entered the workshop while he was on an inventing binge, trying to block out the ear-splitting music.

* * *

Despite becoming increasingly familiar with Tony Stark's sincerity and eccentricities, Steve doesn't actually expect the trip to happen.

As the days go by, villains attack, and life goes on, Tony never once mentions their impending trip, instead working himself to the point of exhaustion, eating, sleeping, and repeating. He doesn't ask about travel plans, doesn't stop being Tony Stark: Brains Behind Stark Industries long enough to iron out any details at all.

Still, Steve shouldn't be this surprise when Tony knocks on the door to his rooms the day of Thor's return with Jane. As soon as the door is open wide enough (and, really, he only knocked out of some sense of courtesy or boundaries, because there is no room in the tower Tony cannot get into) Tony is in the room and talking, his movements kinetic and barely restrained.

"You really haven't done much to decorate the place, have you? JARVIS said you ordered all those art supplies. Why haven't you put anything on the walls, yet?" Before Steve can explain to Tony exactly how weird and self-aggrandizing it feels to see your own work on the walls every day, he's continuing, "No, never mind. That's not the point right now. How fast can you pack your bag?"

Steve stares at him for a moment, and he tries in vain to follow the leaps Tony's mind makes.

"Come on, Cap! I'm pretty sure your brain thawed out with the rest of you. How long is it going to take for you to pack a bag for a couple of days in the Berkshires? If we can get to the plane within an hour, we can be there in time to make dinner reservations."

"You want to leave now? Tony, can you really just skip town like this? Don't you have meetings and things to sign and Pepper to not make mad?"

Tony almost looks offended at the suggestion. "Please, Cap. I told Pepper not to schedule anything vital until a couple of weeks after Thor gets back. If she didn't take me seriously it's her own fault – she's been working me for how many years, now? She should know to take me seriously by this point."

* * *

Steve almost expects the flight to get awkward, but he's hardly surprised when it's not. Tony rambles freely and un-self-consciously, ostensibly just enjoying the sound of his own voice. And yet, the second Steve even looks like he has something he wants to say, Tony stops his stream-of-consciousness babble and starts fiddling with his phone or a tablet, doing everything in his power to look like he's not paying attention.

Steve tried to insist they drive – it seems so wasteful to fly just the two of them the short distance to Stockbridge, but Tony wasn't hearing any of it.

"Look, frankly, I'm surprised you haven't figured this out yet, but putting up with long car rides isn't really my forte. Too little space for all my genius. I need space for all my genius. I need room to spread out and show off, and all that. I offered to carry you in the suit, but you wanted to save your stupid dignity, or whatever, so we're taking the jet. Tony started to leave before Steve could phrase his response, calling out, "I'll even have the stripper poles taken down to defer to your delicate sensibilities," as he got into the elevator and selected a floor.

As Steve sits in the plane, he thinks he can actually pick out the bases for the poles, and he has to take another moment to process the fact that Tony hadn't just been lying to make him blush. (Although, really, if he was going to have them taken out, there was no reason to bring their existence to Steve's attention, except to see him blush.)

Sitting in the private jet, half an hour out from the Pittsfield Airport, Steve can't stop himself from wondering at just how much Tony spends on them all. Between remodeling the tower, getting new toasters and microwaves and televisions every time one becomes a casualty of living with superheroes, and designing them all new, better equipment, this trip of theirs barely puts a dent in the total.

And that's all before factoring in the implications of his frequent, "Do you know how much my time is worth? You can't afford me!" exclamations.

Really, they're quite lucky to have him on their side, trying to be their friend.

Because Steve knows, as they begin their descent, that that's what this is. He'd seen similar from Howard, although the mad had been far more wrapped up in his military contracts and the war going on, and maybe even his own sense of self-importance. It seemed a shared trait of the Stark men, to try and keep people around by building shiny toys and, apparently, buying them anything they so much as thought about wanting.

As they drive to the house – on the line between Stockbridge and Lenox, because "If it'd been any closer to downtown, Dad would have wound up buying all of Main St, and even I don't need that. Plus, it's easier to get to the ski places from here," – Steve can't help but grin at the quintessential New England town. It may not be Brooklyn, but it sure s pretty out here.

"And I suppose it never occurred to you to just get a hotel?"

Tony manages to look affronted as he snorts. "If I'd even mentioned the word 'hotel' around my old man, he'd have bought one out and then permanently blocked off at least two floors so no Stark would have to interact with the 'working class'."

The disdain in his voice is palpable, and Steve has to clamp down on the familiar dissonance between the man he knew and the one Tony speaks of so bitterly. He knows better by now than to mention this discord around Tony – they've been getting along recently, and he doesn't want to tear all that progress down.

Steve grabs their bags before Tony can start saying anything about People To Do These Things and decides to pick a room for his own; for all that Tony calls it a "house" there're still five bedrooms in the three-story building. As he exits the house, Tony pulls one of his Audis up from the garage in back and calls out, "Hop in, Cap! Our reservation is in twenty five minutes!"

Knowing Tony, Steve gets into the car with trepidation and a sense that, even this far away from the city and its lavish habits, they'll wind up somewhere they're horribly underdressed. Sure, Tony is an eccentric billionaire, but Steve has no such excuse. In a city like New York, it's easy to go mostly undisturbed, even as an American icon, but that's mostly because everyone's too busy rushing from one place to another to notice their surroundings. In a quieter place like the Berkshires, Steve gets the feeling he won't get such privacy.

When they get to the restaurant, Steve is thrown to see it's an Italian place – and that they're actually not very underdressed at all.

The host recognizes Tony right away, and doesn't even wait to be asked before declaring, "The usual table will be ready for you in about five minutes, Mister Stark."

"We'll be at the bar, then," Tony replies, leading Steve to one of the two remaining free stools and insisting, "Order whatever you like, really." Steve almost feels silly ordering a Guinness with the wall of fine liquors in front of him, but since he can't get drunk any way, he's really just going for the familiar taste.

Tony, he notices, orders only a coffee, although he does ask for it Irish. It's odd, even after all this time, to see Tony Stark being so responsible when he's not even on call for Hero Duty. Still. Steve knows better than to bring up Tony's sobriety (or lack thereof). It's another sure-fire way to decimate the peace they've managed so far.

When they're seated at a quieter table in a back corner, Tony glances at the wine list before putting it down and ordering a water, which Steve reciprocates.

Once the waiter leaves, Steve fishes for something to say that isn't a comment on the water, and finally settles on, "You seem to know this place. What's good?"

Tony just grins. "Everything."

* * *

Once the waiter takes away their plates and offers dessert, Steve realizes just how long they've been talking. Tony seems to realize this, too, and insists on ordering them each a chocolate piano and coffee – Steve mouths 'decaf' to the waiter while pointing at Tony behind his back. His metabolism makes caffeine about as effective as it does alcohol, but he cannot even consider how much later Tony will manage to stay up if he gets any in his system.

"Did you just?" Apparently Steve didn't cut off his motions quite in time. "I know you didn't just get between me and caffeine, Rogers! I could have sworn you had more self-preservation than that!"

Steve adorns his best 'Aw, shucks!' face. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tony. I was just stretching a little."

"Sure, sure. And Fury has never told a lie."

"Well, it is pretty easy to get away with half-truths and menacing glares. If anyone could successfully run a Secret Government Agency that way, it'd be Fury."

Before Tony can manage a reply, their desserts are out, and Steve is too captivated by the sight to even notice Tony slipping the waiter a conspicuous black credit card. "So that's why you insisted on staying for dessert! I don't think I've seen anything that decadent in, well, ever!"

Tony just smiles knowingly in response.

* * *

When they head out to the museum after a rather ridiculously excessive breakfast (eggs, pancakes, bacon, French toast, and sausage, all piled high enough on the plates to satisfy a super soldier metabolism) Steve is surprised to see that it actually looks like Tony got a few hours of sleep. It's not an accusation he makes lightly around the billionaire, but it's enough of a sign that Steve lets him drive them out to the museum with no complaints.

When they enter and walk up to the visitor's desk, the woman sitting there offers a bright grin as she greets, "Hello, Mister Stark! It's so wonderful to have you with us today! Would you and your companion like a private tour of the collection today?"

Before Stark can even think of accepting that offer, Steve jumps in. "The public talks will be lovely, thanks."

"Of course." The woman was completely un-phased, starting in on her usual greeting procedure. "Here are your visitor clips, please put them somewhere easily visible on your clothing. The next gallery talk is in fifteen minutes, Rob will be doing a presentation downstairs on Mr. Rockwell's early life at one thirty, and, of course, Mr. Rockwell's studio is open for viewing until five."

As they move into the gallery, Steve stops at "Marriage License," making his way clockwise around the room, almost forgetting about Tony's presence entirely, until an elderly woman steps into the middle of the room and announces, "Hello, everyone. My name is Ethel, and the 1 PM talk is now starting."

As she talks and a crowd gathers around, Steve listens and looks, taking in the new information along with what he already knows. When he looks, he sees Tony actually following along, too. He knows it probably shouldn't be a surprise, but, well, it's odd to see Tony so close to standing still.

It's when they get into the second room of the gallery that Ethel recaptures Steve's full attention.

"Now," she starts, and Steve's gaze is drawn to where she stands to the right of the gallery, "Mr. Rockwell is, perhaps, most famous for his four Freedoms. These paintings followed Franklin Roosevelt's 1941 State of the Union Address, in which he identified these four essential human rights. They were used heavily in Bond drives after their painting in 1943, and raised around $132 million, making them the second most profitable in United States history. At the time, they were the largest grossing campaign, but shortly thereafter the Captain America tours began."

Tony shoots Steve a conspiratorial grin, but he's the only one to pay him any mind, and Steve can't help feeling entirely too grateful for that small mercy. His eyes are drawn back to Ethel and the painting as she starts speaking once more.

"Now, behind me is the Freedom of Speech. Do you notice anything interesting about how all these people are drawn? Now, they appear to be in a town meeting, but if you look at the main figure, standing in the center, he appears to be working class, maybe a mechanic, maybe a farmer, but the really interesting element is in the people he's speaking to, here. Look at their ears, how exaggerated they are. Not only was Mr. Rockwell saying that everyone has the right to speak out, he was saying we all have the right to be listened to."

As she moves around the group and everyone turns around, she points and continues, "Now, this one is my favorite: the Freedom of Religion. If you look you can see people of different races, ages, religions. Look at the text on the top, 'Each according to the dictates of his own conscience'. Look at the emotions on their faces, the tears in some of their eyes. There is so much detail in each of these people, they all look so life like, so real. This woman," she gestures at the woman with light on her face and rosary beads in her hands, "she looks as though her faith is all that's keeping her together. There's so much raw emotion here, and Mr. Rockwell really managed to capture the American spirit."

Moving past the archway they entered through and to the right, Ethel begins once more. "Here we've got possibly the most iconic of the images, the Freedom From Want. Now, Mr. Rockwell liked to throw in familiar faces, so you'll notice that the woman on the left is his wife, and the woman on the right, sitting at the table, is his mother. This image captures a few ideals. First, the family is clearly not wanting for food, clothing, or shelter. They all appear excited, and are not lacking company, conversation, or loved ones, which might just be the most important of all."

Crossing back to the left side of the first wall and making the group turn around once more, she spoke again. "Finally, we have the Freedom From Fear, one of the most emotional pieces in the set. Now, if you remember, we discussed how Norman Rockwell always left clues as to what time of day, and which day it is. We can see parents tucking their children into bed, so it must be evening or night time. If we look at the newspaper in his hand, we can learn more - this was the early 1940s, so do you know what was happening at night, especially in England? If you need a hint, look at the headline. It's referring to the bombings from the air raids. But look: the little girl has left her doll on the floor, along with their clothes and other toys. She doesn't need the comfort of her doll tonight, isn't worried about having to try and find her as they run for shelter. The family is not afraid, nor should they have to be."

As the group moves forward into the next room, Steve remains, staring transfixed at this last Freedom, wondering if he'd ever been the cause of such a sense of security, that much of a comforting thought.

When Steve's thoughts start to circle in on how it was all false comfort, how he didn't deserve to be the source of any of it, he felt a presence move closer to his side, and a hand gently come to rest on his shoulder.

"Hey," Tony whispers, careful not to startle him, just loud enough to be heard over the rushing thoughts in Steve's head. "Do you need to go outside?"

Steve thinks about it, finally registers Ethel telling the group about The Gossips and nods. "Yeah. I… I think that might be a good idea."

When they get outside, Steve half expects Tony to start walking back to the car, but instead they start moving in the direction of Rockwell's studio. When they reach the doors, Steve is much closer to normal, but Tony still waits for him to lead them inside. Once in, it;s a comfort to be surrounded by familiar supplies. Sure, living until 1978 means Rockwell had some of the more modern supplies, but the majority of what he sees is self-evident in its purpose, which is a pretty rare thing for this century.

As he looks around, Steve notices that Tony has disappeared, but writes it off easily - he probably just got a call from Pepper or someone at S.I. - Tony is pretty important, after all.

They fly back to New York the next day, and Steve is too busy thanking Tony for his generosity in the time between to remember the brief disappearance on a quiet summer day.

* * *

A week after their trip, Steve comes in from his morning run through the park, showers, and heads to his drawing room. Inspiration had hit about a mile and a half away from the tower, and he has to at least start sketching before the vision is lost to him forever.

He's almost to his desk when he notices it, hung in the middle of one of the blank walls he still hadn't decorated.

He carefully takes it off the wall as he asks, "JARVIS, can you tell me where Tony is?"

"Sir is in the lab, where he has been working for the past twelve hours, Captain Rogers," comes the crisp reply, and Steve wastes no time getting to the elevators, frame securely in hand.

When the elevator reaches the lab, it becomes clear that JARVIS did not see fit to alert Tony to his arrival, and Steve can't help but smile at that as the glass doors to the lab swish open for him.

"What on Earth is this?" For emphasis, he brandishes the frame, giving Tony a Look as the self-reported genius pauses his work and music before turning around. He almost looks sheepish, nervous, for a moment, before he slaps on Tony Stark Grin #36, and laughs a little too hard.

"It's you, of course! What else would it be? I thought you could identify with it when you're lacking inspiration… You know, using the lack of inspiration as inspiration, and all that."

As Steve continues to stare at him, Tony falters some more, muttering, "You've been taking forever to decorate your rooms, so I thought I'd remind you how it's done."

Steve allows his expression to shift at that, raising a skeptical eyebrow as he prods, "Tony, please tell me you didn't buy this while we were at the museum."

"Well, not technically. I traded them a bunch of sketches of his that've been hanging around the mansion for this and a few others. It made them happy, it made me happy, and no money was exchanged throughout the whole process! So, really, no, I didn't buy it."

Steve freezes on the spot. "... Some others?"

Tony starts hedging again. "I cleared it with Pepper, and everything - she's been wanting to mix up the art collection for a while, now, I just found the opportunity, and the living room walls were so sparse…"

At the words, Steve turns and heads back to the elevator, painting still in hand and Tony close on his heels.

When he reaches the living room on the communal floor, Steve stares at the wall behind the big squishy couches, where there are five new paintings hanging. As he studies each, he can see who each was meant for, and turns back to Tony. "There's one for Clint, Natasha, Bruce, Thor, and me, but where's yours?"

Tony threw a grin and a wink as he meandered into the kitchen for another cup of coffee, "I guess you'll just have to get one for me, huh?"

* * *

_The idea came to me during a visit to the Norman Rockwell Museum. The restaurant they visit is based off of a real one in the Berkshires, which does have a chocolate piano on the menu. It's delicious._


End file.
